The Gates of Nirvana
by MRegent.2 and Pangie
Summary: Empires fall and great men and women fall with them, leaving a void that must be filled by whoever is strong enough to replace them. Come and witness the struggle for power and peace that came after the events of Ptolemey's gate.
1. The Merciful Reaper

Disclaimer I do not own The Bartimaeus Trilogy or any of its associated characters or fictional locations.

He hated this city.

No. It was beyond mere hate. He _despised_ this city, he _loathed _this city. He would have gladly set it alight and watched it burn like the hell it was with all the lecherous, petty souls that were it denizens trapped within. Unfortunately that was against the rules that he lived by.

The being who so lamented his position was at this moment walking through the cobbled streets, his shined shoes soundlessly pushing against the smooth cobbles to drive their wearer forward into the foggy streets. It was still early in the morning, even the numerous stalls that lined the London slums were still deserted with the exception of the few souls who braved the early chill. However for the being that strode forward the fog held no trace of the icy cool that numbed the fingers of the poor wretches that huddled past him, eyes staring past him without a hint of recognition. Nor did he leave a trace of his passing through the mist, the fog lying as still as before he had passed.

The being stopped for second, his soundless footsteps ceasing as he stared at the sign above the small shack-building.

63 copper street. He had reached his destination.

The being glanced at a small silver pocket-watch before sliding it back into his suit pocket, the chain making no more of a clink than his shoes a tap as they hit the cobbles once more. The being slid through the open open entrance as one of the residents suddenly flew out of the entrance doorway, his thin mass rolling across the hard cobbles before coming to a stop. The being raised an eyebrow at a burly woman as he passed her, her thick arms taught with muscle.

"And don't come back!" She creamed at the scrounger she had thrown from the shack. The being turned away and walked over to the trap door lying open in the floor dirt floor. As he had suspected the real establishment was hidden by the unassuming wooden building. He glided down the uneven stairway smoothly and began walking through the tunnels beneath London.

Oily torches lit up the dirt tunnels around him, old mining supports holding the fragile halls steady for a time at least. Evidently they had simply made use of the old mines beneath London, very practical, if not glamorous. Every few meters a small wooden door would interrupt the uniform grey. Finally the being sensed his target behind one of them. He halted in front of the weathered board. He stood there, motionless, for a few seconds, listening for the ragged breathing behind it. Sure enough a light, halting, drawing of breath was just audible above the sounds of quiet weeping. The being moved forward and phased through the wooden barrier, the wood remained whole, not even a stain left behind to show the being's movement.

The being halted once more, this time to gaze upon the inhabitant of the tiny room behind the door. She was a small girl, her face thin and weak, her mother quietly crying beside her, looking little better off.

The girs eyes suddenly opened and she met the beings black eyes with her own brown ones. "Who're you?" she managed to gasp out.

The being smiled gently, "my name is Nathaniel, I've come to help you."

The girl's eyes became bright and she grinned like the child she was, her gap-toothed grin revealing her blood-stained teeth. "Oh really, thank you so much, my chest has been hurting so much..."

The girls mother looked at her daughter with swollen eyes. "Sophie, who are you talking to? There's no one there!"

"Yes there is mummy, there's a nice man who's here to help me. He said so, mummy, why are you crying?" The girl asked as her mother began weeping once more.

"She can't see me," said Nathaniel sadly. "Only you can because I've come to help you."

"Oh...okay," said the girl brightly, suddenly she began coughing, her small body shuddering glided over to her and gently lay the palm of his hand against her back. Her coughs slowly became gentler and she looked at him with blood trailing from her mouth.

"Wow, I feel better already, you must be _really_ good doctor!" she grinned innocently.

Nathaniel shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I'm not a doctor, but I am here to help you..."

The girl frowned. "But if you're not a doctor then how can you help me?" She suddenly drew away from him. "Mummy said I wasn't supposed to talk to strangers, if you're not a doctor then I'm not supposed to let you touch me either, my mommy said that it's bad to let strangers touch you."

Nathaniel smiled again. "Your mummy sounds like a very smart person, but I am here to help you, help you sleep."

Sophie grinned again. "Oh, the other doctor gave me something to help me sleep as well! But that tasted icky!" She stuck out her bloody tongue for emphasis.

Nathaniel placed a light hand on her shoulder. "Yes, I bet was," he laughed gently, "but you won't have to drink anything nasty with me, you just have to _sleep_."

"But how can you... make me sleep?" asked Sophie, her eyelids suddenly drooping. "Wow, you really are a good doctor... I feel so.. sleepy."

"Shh, Sophie, it's time to rest, just let yourself fall to sleep..." said Nathaniel as he gently lay her down.

"Okay... will I have dreams?" asked Sophie as her eyelids grew ever heavier.

"Oh yes, you'll have dreams." Nathaniel soothed. "Dreams about your father and your friends... and all the things you wanted to do with them before they went away."

Sophie's eyes slowly closed. "I won't be alone then?"

"Oh no," said Nathaniel. "You'll never ever be alone again."

"Promise..?" the girls voice was just a whisper now.

Nathaniel removed his hand and clasped the girls. "I promise." And with that Sophie's laboured breathing finally stopped and her mother's wails pierced the heavens.

**Author's Note: Hello people, MRegent.2 here, anyway this is just the first chapter of my own continuation of the Bartimaeus trilogy. I'll continue and offer explanation about what going on in the next chapters.**


	2. Enslaved once more

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy or any of its associated characters or fictional locations.

**Instructions: To read the footnotes scroll down to the number indicated at the bottom of this fic. It'll make more sense once you read it, I promise. **

The other place is heaven.

There is no doubt about it. That great mass of muddled essence and personality is what makes my life worth living **(1)**. Unfortunately there are always those annoying smelly people who just can't seem to grasp it's beauty and insist on dragging me down to their confusing petty plane of existence **(2)**.

Now this was perhaps the first time since Ptolemy died that I didn't resist a summons. As I felt the familiar hooks in my essence, dragging it down the mortal plane, I actually went quietly **(3)**. Now I usually took either Ptolemy's form or my old favourite gargoyle, but I was feeling nostalgic that 'day' **(4)** so I fixed my form into another beings and appeared in the mortal realm as the one other human who meant almost as much to me as Ptolemy.

"WHO DARES TO SUMMON ME!?" I began in significantly lower tone than my usual booming voice. "I AM SAKHIR AL JINNI-"

"Oh shut up you pompous ass!" Snapped a voice, cutting me off mid-introduction **(5)**.

"Eh?" I took in my surrounding. I was in a small wooden house, from the scent I was in London again **(6)**. I spotted a small wiry man of about twenty years old in casual street clothes. I (surprise! surprise!) was in a chalk summoning circle drawn into the damp wood, the man was in a protective circle a few meters away. "AND WHO ARE YOU MERE MORTAL TO CHALLENGE THE GREAT-"

"I said SHUT UP!" The man snapped his fingers and a lance of fire suddenly shot up my behind **(7)**. "Dammit you're going to wake up the neighbours!"

I rubbed my sore behind and gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. "How could you do that to a little girl?" **(8)**

"You're not a little girl, just a _fugly_ demon with an ego to match his stupidity!" **(9) **Is it just me or have manners become a thing of the past? "Now shut up so I can speak!" **(10)**. "I charge you, Bartimaeus, to tell me all you know about the Reapers!"

Uh-oh, stealing, fine. Moving furniture, fine. Cleaning, not so much **(11)**but still better than spilling about the people who control life and Death. "Umm, I don't suppose I could interest you in a first hand account of how the walls of Prague were built instead?"

The Magician gave me a death glare that made Mandrake after a four-hour lecture on agriculture look like a trip to the fun fair **(12)**. "You really have quite the masochistic streak Bartimaeus" He raised his hand and prepared to snap his fingers.

"No, no, wait a second!" I shouted desperately. "I'll talk, just din't send another one of those things up there again!" **(13)**

"Then spill!"

"You spill!"

"I'll make you spill!" He snapped his fingers again.

"Owwee, you really are a bad man!" I said in my sad little girl act when I could move my legs without wincing.

"Yes, yes I'm the scum of the earth. Now tell me abut the reaper's already!" I was about to tell him to do something to himself when I noticed the very large silver pistol sitting on the floor next to him. In my experience telling someone to do what I was about to tell him to do was a very effective method of suicide. "Fine. The spirits who exist on the border of life and Death, Reapers, Shingami whatever you want to call them, they exist to guide human sould onto the next world." **(14) "**That's all I've got, so can I go now?" I gave him even better version of my puppy dog eyes.

"No!" Snapped Mr Magician. "I do hereby charge you, Bartimaeus, to protects me until such time as I release you!" **(15)**

"And if I refuse?" I folded my arms. I mean, you can't just give into these people or they'll never respect you!

He picked up his big gun and pulled the trigger, the bullet blasted through my hand and knocked a hole through my hand **(16)**. "Need I continue?"

"Alright alright you've made your point! I'll do alright!" Damn, another master, another undefined period of time in which I will have to repeatedly save his scrawny behind. Is it just me or do these situations gravitate torward me?

**1. After all these centuries of being dragged to earth and back like some kind of trans-dimensional Yo-Yo, the other place is the one place that I actually enjoy**** spending my existence.**

**2. Magicians, for the slower ones among you my adoring readers.**

**3. As opposed to making my usual ruckus which informed every other spirit nearby exactly what I thought about my situation in highly inventive terms.**

**4. There aren't exactly any real measurements of time in the other place **

**5. Excuse, I'm not pompous. So what if I take pride in my history, I have a lot to be proud of. I built the walls of Prague you know!**

**6. Oh joy. And the smell wasn't exactly roses either, more like a combination of excrement and sweat. I was obviously near the Thames.**

**7. That HURT. Why is it all magicians have an obsession with driving various things into me, eg, ****swords, bullets, various appendages (no not **_**those**_**, my goodness you people have such perverse imagination these days) the list goes on.**

**8. Let me guess, you people thought I was impersonating a certain seventeen year old Magician with a bad taste in hair styles, right? Nope, no matter what he may have done in the end he still spent years dragging my poor essence from one end of Europe to the other. ****Mind you, he went out with one hell of bang (I was feeling the vibrations from the other place), I'll give him that. No, I was impersonating a certain black haired revolutionary before she went to the other place. Look I don't feel like going over it all again, if you want to find out go and read my trilogy.**

**9. Ouch.**

**10. If I didn't know better I would say he was having a hell of a period.**

**11. You wouldn't believe how bad the combination of summoning incense that clings to any magician of real power and last night's curry is while you're trying to unblock the toilet.**

**12. That's a whole new level of **_**nasty**_** all on its own.**

**13. Perhaps the lowest point in my five-thousand year career. Right down there with stripping for Caesar's guests and hiding in a Magician back in Peru, I'm not saying where. Ever.**

**14. Wow, I sounded so smart didn't I?**

**15. All very dramatic, complete with windswept clothes because of the drafts.**

**16. Well technically it was Kitty's hand but you get the point. Oh and one more tinsey little edetail. THAT HURT!**


End file.
